Walking out into the late twilight, the wind blows on my face and dances around in my hair. The crisp air is refreshing, and I like the coolness of it as it hit my face. "You look so peaceful," remarks Bennet. I look at him and see him gazing intensely at me. I blush. "Thanks," I say. He leads the way to his black car, and he walks me to the passenger side. Opening the door, he grins at me, saying, "Your ride, sir." I can't help but laugh, which seems to make Bennet's grin grow. I step in, and Bennet carefully closes the door after me. Jogging over to his side, he opens his door and hops in. "Where are we going?" I ask as I buckle up my seatbelt. The green jacket I'm wearing is a bit crinkled from the seatbelt, so I smooth it out. "Well, I was planning on some dinner, then we can go by this really sweet spot I know and, you know, maybe chat? If you want to," he says looking at me with an uncertain countenance. I smile. "I think I would like that," I say softly. He smiles happil

My lips feel cold after the hot kissing we did. Even inside the car, where the heater is on a little, it feels cold. And my skin. With my shirt and coat on, and my pants all straightened with my belt tight around my hips, I feel cold. We didn't take it far. Just steamy kissing and body groping. I just wish I was comfortable doing more. But after about twenty minutes of kissing and groping, I was too flustered and embarrassed to do any more. Bennet was able to read my face and see that I wasn't in the mood to keep going, so he dressed me back up and escorted me back to the passenger seat.My house comes into view as we exit the tiny forest that surrounds the outside of the peninsula that my house is on. It seems empty and strange, with the moon shining off the white and black exterior. The empty windows remind me of my own eyes, which must seem dark and boring. How Bennet can call them beautiful is beyond me.We pull up to the front, and the car shudders to a stop. Looking over, Be

After my breakdown in the locker room, Bennet and I became what most people would call lovers. Bennet hugged me and held me, and I let him. And he occasionally kissed me. And I let him. I became more of a lover worthy of him. Well, I could say I was always worthy, maybe, but I'm not sure of that. I just know, I'm all in for him now. With all that emotional wreck that I acted as that day, I'm sure I need to stop being hard-to-get. Or, I just have to figure out how to keep myself all together even on rainy, dreary, sad, and emotionally debilitating days. I don't think I cried like that since I bought a pair of shoes that the next day a kid spilled ice cream on it. That was tragic, since they were genuine leather. But all that drama aside, I've made sure that I've been receptive, communicating, loving, can't forget that. I've been there for Bennet. And he liked me for that. Or maybe just as I am.**************************** The final bell of the day rings, and I exit the stu

I seriously think I'm going crazy. But not in a way that most people would call a maniac. More like crazy for Bennet. Ever since I visited Bennet's house two days ago, I can't help but want to see him. Whenever I'm not seeing him.Right now, I'm at home, just getting ready for dinner. Bennet said he might swing by later, so I'm just getting some chicken to eat. I'm thinking of just frying them and pouring some vinegar and soy-sauce mixture I know. Also making a little salad. Looking out the window, I observe the grey sky. It's really getting cold. November is just so quick. Next week is Thanksgiving, and school let out yesterday. One of the pros of living in a small town, you get to decide when kids get out, and if it's a little early than the rest of the country, so what? Nobody notices.I put the chicken in some batter, and set it next to the stove. Grabbing two dinner plates, I set them on the kitchen island and lay them out so I can put the chicken on once I fry it. I'm pretty sur

Arriving at Bennet's house, I drive up to the little clearing in front of the front door. Parking my car and wrapping my scarf around my thin neck, I push open the door and step out. Walking around to the trunk, I open it and lift the large plate of chocolate pecan pie. I wrapped it in aluminum foil, and a thick canvas cloth I found to keep it warm. I made it this morning. School has been out since last week, so I had plenty of time to go over my recipe. I found it in one of mom's old cooking books. It was handwritten, and I pored over the pages for a few hours, admiring the penmanship. The cold bitter wind stirs up and lashes across my face. I shiver. November in Handerville is really cold. It seems to bite. Carrying it carefully in front of me, I walk to the front door, climbing up the steps of the porch. As I near, the door opens. Bennet stands with a smile. I smile back. Walking in, I set the plate on a little table next to the door and jump into his warm and inviting arm